Walking the Line
by Codiak
Summary: "I bit my lip. I wasn't sure if I wanted to do it, but maybe it was something that needed to be done. I closed my eyes to think and hoped that my decision wouldn't end badly."
1. Chapter 1

****This has been edited.**

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I rested my head on my desk as Mr. Lancer droned on and on about something. Why did my teacher always have to talk? Couldn't he ever just stay quiet? For a minute? A second? How about an entire class? Was that too much to ask for?

"Daniel, pay attention," Mr. Lancer ordered. I lifted my head and yawned. It wasn't my fault that I was ghost fighting for half the night. Really, it was all Sam's fault because she convinced me to go into the darn portal, but I wasn't going to blame her. Ghost powers were cool. "Do you know what I was talking about?" Mr. Lancer asked.

_Oh, crap._

"Um…something?" I answered slowly. "About something?"

"You should learn to sleep instead of playing video games all night, Mr. Fenton," Mr. Lancer told me.

_Video games? How can he- Why would I- I _never_ have time to play video games anymore. I wish I did._ _Instead, I don't sleep much because I'm busy getting my butt kicked to keep the stupid little town known as Amity Park safe!_

"I don't play video games," I replied calmly.

"Is that so? What about that computer game that you almost failed a test because of?"

"I _used_ to play video games. I don't have time to play video games anymore. I barely have time to eat, let alone stay awake during your lectures, Mr. Lancer." My teacher stared at me for a full minute. How did I know it was a full minute? I timed it. I knew what he was thinking. Where did I learn to open my mouth? I was usually quiet and shy, but at the moment…

"And why don't you have time?" Mr. Lancer finally inquired.

"I have things to do that you wouldn't understand about," I returned.

"How do you know that I wouldn't understand?"

"Because you wouldn't. I know. I'm not stupid. I know that you wouldn't understand what I do because you don't do it."

"What do you do?"

_Oops._ I didn't intend for it to go that far. "Weren't you teaching something about something?" I wondered.

Mr. Lancer took the hint and picked up where he left off. "As I was saying, I would like each of you to complete an essay."

"Wait. You would _like_ us to complete it?" Tucker asked happily. I chuckled. "That means that we don't have to do it, right?"

"No, you need to do it unless you want a failing grade," Mr. Lancer corrected. "I can't make you do it, but I can fail you." Tucker sunk down in his seat. I glanced over at my other best friend, Sam. She shook her head and rolled her eyes at Tucker's attempt to be even lazier than usual. I smiled.

"What's it about?" Paulina asked grudgingly.

"That's the good part," Mr. Lancer announced. "The essay can be about anything that you want it to be, but it needs to be full. It needs to have meaning of some sort."

"So any topic, but it must have some deep meaning from the heart?" Sam wondered.

"Samantha, it does not have to be from deep within the heart. Just do a good job on it. Try to stump people when you write the essay. Have them wonder what it's really about."

"Why? It's not like anyone else but you would be reading them."

"Actually, the entire class is going to hear your essays. I want to see if we can guess what the essay is meant to be about and then guess who wrote it. You will not be putting your names on them when you hand them in."

"An anonymous essay?" I questioned.

"Exactly. I will give you time to start it now, but I want it on my desk by tomorrow to begin."

I cocked my head to the side. What was I going to write about that had any meaning or anything like that in it? _I could write about…my friends. I like my friends and I know about my friends- No. That would be too easy. I would just have to say that the _she_ is opinionated and that _he_ loves technology and then I would be given away._

I looked over at Tucker. He was busy trying to construct a paper airplane. Yeah… He wasn't going to do the essay, or at least not do it very well. I switched my gaze to Sam. She was staring at me. I raised an eyebrow at her and she blushed. I watched her write for a few minutes before finding a clean sheet of paper for myself.

_What am I going to write about? Happiness? Hatred? Envy? Love- What? No. I'm a guy. We don't write about love and stuff. Ew. Cross that off the list. Sleep deprivation is really starting to mess with me…_

_Life? That would be an interesting essay. I could describe some of my life. But what part? For an essay that should be so simple, this is really hard._

I drummed my fingers across the top of my desk and sighed. There were so many topics to choose from. Any one of them would do. I wanted a good grade, though. I wanted to prove that there was more to me than the clumsy Danny Fenton. I really wanted to make the class think about who wrote the essay.

Suddenly, the idea struck me hard in the face. I bit my lip. I wasn't sure if I wanted to do it, but maybe it was something that needed to be done. I closed my eyes to think and hoped that my decision wouldn't end badly.


	2. Chapter 2

I paused at Mr. Lancer's desk with my essay. It wasn't too late to just take a failing grade.

_No. I need to do it. Just to see what people say, if anything_, I told myself.

I dropped my paper off and took my seat. A sick feeling lodged itself in the pit of my stomach. Mr. Lancer wasn't here yet, so maybe if I just went up and retrieved my-

"Good morning, everyone," Mr. Lancer said as he walked in. It was now or never.

"Mr. Lancer," I called out. "I need my essay back. It's not ready. It's a load of crud and I really want it back."

"Daniel, I'm sure it's fine. I don't want to give you a failing grade. Leave it," he replied. I internally groaned. Sam and Tucker looked at me funny, and I smiled nervously. I was such an idiot.

"I hope that I have everyone's essays," Mr. Lancer said, staring pointedly at Tucker. "I am going to shuffle the papers before I start." We all waited for Mr. Lancer and I wondered why he was shuffling anonymous papers. "The first one here is titled: Nice Shoes."

"Star!" everyone yelled and the blonde blushed.

"Was it that obvious?" Star asked. Mr. Lancer read through her story quickly to himself and looked at her.

"It only about your collection of shoes," he stated. We all gazed at Star.

"I love my shoes and they mean a lot to me. What if I had this really nice outfit and didn't have any shoes to match?"

"Do you mind if I skip over you describing every last pair that you own?"

"…no. You can burn that if you want, too," Star suggested quietly.

Mr. Lancer shook his head and moved on. "Now, I want everyone to at least hear the essay before calling out names. Just listen to it and then we'll discuss it," he announced. We all sat back to prepare for the long class ahead. "This one is called: Phantom."

Everyone had an idea of who wrote this one. Paulina was grinning like a sugar high clown, and I was about to start banging my head on my desk- And this was before our teacher had even began reading.

"His green eyes look into mine and I see that he adores me," Mr. Lancer started. I felt like gagging. I did _not_ adore her. Not anymore, at least. "They way he flies is something special because I know that he does it for me. Phantom has saved me over and over and I know that he wishes that we would meet on better terms when I wasn't in danger."

"Mr. Lancer?" I raised my hand and cut him off.

"Mr. Fenton?"

"Can I be excuse for like five minutes?"

"Why?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

"I feel like puking," I answered honestly.

"Because of the essay?"

"Yes." I nodded my head once. "Seriously, I don't think I can listen to any more. And Sam… Well, look at her." I gestured my hand over to my friend and saw that her eye was twitching.

"Daniel, just sit there. Okay? Samantha?"

"Okay… But if I go lose my breakfast, you know why," I stated. Mr. Lancer shook his head and picked up where he left off. Paulina was shooting daggers at me, and I held myself back from laughing. If only she knew that she was sending mental death threats to the person she loved most. Sam was in a full twitch by the time that the discussion for Paulina's essay was over. I was staring straight ahead at nothing, thinking about how wrong the essay was. All Paulina had done was gush about how much I—well, Phantom—loved her and that one day, everything would be great between us.

"This one is called: Clouds," Mr. Lancer said for the next one. Some of us chuckled at the name, and Sam looked over at Kwan. I followed her gaze and then looked back at her. She gave me one of those 'you-don't-want-to-know looks,' so I left it alone. "The clouds are white and fluffy and remind me of footballs. They are so inviting and soothing to look at."

I couldn't believe that Kwan wrote that. I shook my head and scooted down in my chair. "The clouds can be dark or light, and they can be there during the day or at night."

_Ugh!_ Did anyone know how to write without sounding like a moron?

Everyone was wondering who wrote it, but Sam and I were just laughing hysterically by the end of the essay. And the discussion that followed was ridicules.

Kwan admitted to writing it and said that he liked clouds. That was the only reason he wrote the essay.

He liked clouds.


	3. Chapter 3

"I see that we have some curios essay topics," Mr. Lancer said. "I am beginning to wonder of anyone has written an essay that is worth discussing. I was hoping to hear about something truthful and something that captures the heart. Let's see if this next one has what it takes."

I propped my head up with a hand and watched as Mr. Lancer cleared his throat. "This one is titled: Him." I glanced over at Sam for something to do and saw her staring at the floor. She didn't look over to me, so I turned my attention back our teacher.

"His icy blue eyes stare into my soul. He knows when I'm having a good day, and even better, he knows when I'm having a bad day. He's a clown on my bad days and a best friend on my good. My walls crumble when I'm with him and he sees me for who I really am. He doesn't judge me from what the outside shows, but for what my heart shows. He makes me laugh and smile. Oh, his smile. It lights up the world and makes everything okay inside. Just because of his smile, I know that the world is still going and that it will keep going. His laugh is full of heart and makes me want to laugh with him. His voice makes it hard to breathe when I listen to him speak. It melts my heart to the core, and a shiver runs up my spine when he says 'hello' every time we meet. When he's sad, it makes me sad as well. And when he cries, I feel like knocking some sense into whatever made him cry in the first place…and then I cry with him.

"He makes mistakes. He makes stupid decisions. He never thinks fully about his plans. But he does everything for the simple reason that he cares. His mistakes and decisions and plans all come from his heart. He never stops to wonder about helping someone. He just does it. He never stops to wonder if he's going to get hurt in the process, but if that person is going to be hurt instead. His love for those around him triumphs over his sense of safety for himself. He's always there no matter what. He makes sure of it. He is my rock that I rely on to always pick me up when I fall down and I don't know what I would ever do without him. My world would be dead if he wasn't there to fix things and to make them better. My feelings are connected to his, and even when those around him can't see it, I know what's he's feeling inside. I know when he's happy, or sad, or angry, or in pain. I can see it in his icy blue eyes as clear as a crystal when everyone else can't. He tries to hide what's going on in his head, but he should know by now that he can't hide from me, just as I can't hide from him. He means the galaxy to me. He is my everything. And I love him."

Everyone was quiet when Mr. Lancer finished reading. Slowly, some people turned to look at me, which made me wonder how blue my eyes really were. Apparently, they were an _icy_ blue because soon, everyone was staring at me…except for Sam. I gazed over at her and tilted my head to the side. She wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Did you write that?" I asked softly. She nodded carefully but still wouldn't look at me. I let out a sigh and smiled. Maybe it was too soon for three words and maybe the classroom wasn't the place to do it, but I went ahead and said, "I love you, too."

That got a reaction out of her.

Her head snapped up toward me and her amethyst eyes were absolutely huge. I grinned wider at her expression. "Is it really that big of a shock?" I inquired. The longer I let the idea sink in, the longer it didn't seem like that much of a shock. She was my best friend. She was always by my side. She was someone I could never picture life without. Still, she gave no response. "I love Samantha Manson," I said, ignoring the fact that I probably sounded like a moron. "Is it still shocking? I think Samantha Manson is absolutely beautiful. I think that she has the loveliest eyes that I have ever seen. Do you believe me now?" I waited for her to answer me. "No? I would stop breathing if Samantha Manson accepted the offer to be my girlfriend. Are you still shocked?"

"I think she's going to hyperventilate," Tucker commented jokingly. Sam immediately reached back and punched his arm. "Ow! Though I have been wrong before…"

"I've told you before, Danny," Sam began. "Don't call me Samantha."

"Shall I repeat everything I just said without using your full name?" I asked. "I will. I will shout it to the sky. I will tell everyone that is within hearing distance that _I love Sam Manson_!"

"You are such a dork." There was a hint of an embarrassed giggle to her voice, but I knew that if anymore pointed it out to her, she'd give them a black eye. Sam Manson did not giggle.

"But now I'm _your_ dork. That's right. Feel the shame of having a dork as a boyfriend. _Feel it_." I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms.

"Correction. You are a _huge_ dork."

"You're so mean. And what is everyone staring at anyway?" I asked the class. "It's not like you weren't expecting this to happen one day. You probably just didn't think it would happen in the middle of English."

"I think we know the meaning behind this essay," Mr. Lancer announced. "Nice job, and it's about time you two accepted the fact you like each other."

"Aren't you supposed to be the teacher? The one who is suppose to pretend that he doesn't notice what relationships are going on?" Sam wondered.

"Moving on," Mr. Lancer said quickly. "The next essay is entitled: Susan."

"Tucker!" Sam and I yelled, looking back at him.

"What? I deeply love my PDA!" Tucker exclaimed.

"You mean PDAs. How many have you had?" I said.

"It's your fault that they keep getting destroyed." He pointed his finger at me and I rubbed the back of my neck.

"Yeah… But did you really have to write about technology?"

"Sam wrote about how much she loved you and stuff."

"Leave my girlfriend out of this."

"Oh, now it's 'my girlfriend'? Pfft. Fine. I know where this is headed." Tucker put up his hands in defeat and sunk down in his chair.

"Do we really want him as the third wheel?" Sam whispered, and I burst out laughing.

Mr. Lancer snapped his fingers a few times to get the attention of this class back. "I am going to read Mr. Foley's essay. And can we from now on discuss the essays before we find out who wrote them?"

I cringed listening to Mr. Lancer read about how Tucker relied on his PDA for everything and how it was always my fault that he never finished his payments on any of them.

When he finished, Valerie raised her hand. "I personally think that the meaning behind this essay is that Tucker needs special help," she said.

"Finally! Someone who understands!" Sam exclaimed.

I shook my head before putting it down on my desk. Had I made a mistake by handing in my essay?

Mr. Lancer continued with a few more essays, some easier to guess on who the authors were than others. I basically ignored what everyone was saying.

I half-listened to Valerie's essay. She talked about how life could change in the blink of an eye and stuff like that. All I got out of it was that she was still pissed at Phantom for ruining her social life.


	4. Chapter 4

"Walking the Line," Mr. Lancer read.

I almost jumped, but stopped myself. I needed to act casual for my essay. I kept my head down and slowly opened my eyes. I chewed on my lip and then wondered if that was too suspicious, so I stopped.

"Daniel?" Mr. Lancer asked.

I picked my head up. "Huh?"

"Have you been paying any attention at all?"

"Sort of… I remember some of Valerie's." I shrugged.

"For a while, I thought you were asleep."

"I was heading there… I'm awake, though." Suddenly, Mr. Lancer handed my essay to me. "Um… Why do I want this?"

"Read it. So I know you won't fall asleep," he said, smiling in that sarcastic teacher-way that seems to be ingrained into all educators.

"Seriously? I'm wide awake," I moaned. "No one else has to read."

"No one else has been in their own little world for the latter part of the class."

"True." I glanced down at my essay. I yawned and blinked a few times, slowly focusing on the words, even though I already knew them.

"Any time now."

"Walking the Line," I began. "There is a line. It is suppose to be clear. You are either on one side of it or the other. There is no walking directly on it…at least, there isn't _supposed _to be. Very few know what it's like to balance on the line. It's not easy, but it can be done. For some, walking on the line can be an advantage to their lives. For another, it can be dangerous. They never know when they may slip off and not get back on. You may be confused about what I am talking about, so I'll break it down. On one side, there's life. Let's say that life is to the right of the line and that it's white. On the other side of the line, to the left, is death, and it's black. When you mix white with black, you get grey. If you continue forward without going right or left, you are walking on a line. The grey line between life and death is what I am talking about. Only, it's not just a line. It's more of a high wire without a net underneath to catch you. If you fall, you will head to the left into the blackness. You are never allowed to live a normal life on the right side of the line in the white. Well, you could, but you could never fully adjust to having a normal life like you used to have after surviving on the line for any amount of time. So either staying on the thin line or going to the left is what you have to decide.

"Does what I am saying make sense? I'm not sure. It does in my head, but that's because I know exactly what I'm trying to explain. I live in between life and death every day and no one fully understands what goes through my head. Those close to me see how hard I try to stay at least half-breathing, but they don't know how it feels. Others like me do not do what I do on a regular basis. They wouldn't fully understand me, either. The only person who could relate to me is myself. I have a secret. Only a chosen few know about it and they help me as best as they can. Well, most of them. Others try to bring me down, so I have to fight back. I have to survive every day, while everyone reading this just has to get on with their lives.

"I cherish each day. You think about tomorrow. I count every breath I take. You count every second until you can get a car or move out of your house or buy the newest fashion trend. I stress about passing my classes, while keeping up with what I secretly do in my spare time to help people. You stress about how long you have to get ready for prom. I walk out my door, hoping that I'll come back. You walk out your door, hoping that you'll be able to stay out past curfew. I get yelled at for screwing up, while the people yelling don't understand my life. I get grounded for coming home hours after curfew because I was out doing something that had to be done. I take my punishments without much complaining because it's my choice to keep my life a secret. I never intended to walk on the line, but I am and it's something that I have to deal with.

"I secretly help people every day. They know that I help them but they don't at the same time. Does that make sense? Of course it doesn't, because you don't know the entire story behind my life. I get stronger as time goes on and things become slightly easier, but I'm always at the risk of turning left. I may just be ranting. I don't know. I do know that I walk on the line of life and death, and as much of a pain it is to keep myself balanced, I wouldn't change the way my life is for the world." I let out a breath and sat back. I handed my essay back to Mr. Lancer and waited.

"Who has an idea about what the writer was saying?" Mr. Lancer asked.

_I told you in my essay that I was technically half-dead, but you still ask what I was saying?_

Sam raised her hand, and I raised my eyebrow. This was going to be interesting. "I think that they were saying that they do something on a regular basis that may or may not kill them, but…they are already partially dead, so they could either stay half-dead or fully die. They can't live a normal life like you and me because of how they are and what they do. They have different worries than a normal person, but they deal with them just the same. They cherish life more than the average person because they know how easy it could be to just die and not have one anymore," Sam explained slowly.

She nailed it.

"…but," I added carefully, "they also might be afraid to tell more people. They don't know how anyone would react to the truth so they lie. And eventually, their life is full of one lie after another and it slowly eats away at them."

"I think that this person is a freak!" Dash called out. I internally cringed. "No one can be half-dead!"

Mr. Lancer ignored him and focused on me. "Why would you say that they were afraid to tell the truth?" he inquired.

"They keep what they do a secret. You only really keep secrets if you are afraid of someone knowing, right? Maybe you don't want her to know that you cheated on her, or that you stole that shirt from the store, or something like that. If you weren't afraid of someone finding out about what you did or about what you are, then you wouldn't keep it a secret," I replied.

"But no one can be half-dead," Valerie cut in. "They said that they walk on the line between life and death but that's impossible. You are either alive like we are now, or dead, like six feet under the ground or like a ghost."

I glanced over at Sam and Tucker and wondered what they were thinking about. Did they think that I shouldn't have written what I had? Because I was certainly thinking that I shouldn't have written what I had.

"But put that point aside. Why would they be afraid?" Mr. Lancer asked.

"Because if they were half-dead, they would be a freak!" Dash insisted. I couldn't hold back a light flinch that time.

"What do they do to help people?" Paulina questioned. "And how do we know that they're helping but don't?"

"The writer decided not to tell us," Mr. Lancer said. "I wonder how their life would have gotten to be that way."

"So who wrote it?" Valerie asked. The class was silent for a few minutes while everyone thought about who could have written something like what they had just heard. I mentally smacked myself over and over again because there was no way that I wouldn't be found out.

Sam was right. I don't think my plans through.

"Any suggestions?" Mr. Lancer said. I looked around the room to see if anyone had their hands raised. No one did. "Really? Not one guess?"

"No. If I was the writer, I wouldn't want to let anyone know who I was. They're lucky that they don't have anyone guessing. Freak," Dash sneered. I flinched again and sunk lower into my seat. Sam shot me a sympathetic smile, which made me smile back a little.

"How can he be a freak if he helps people?" Tucker spoke up.

"He goes on about walking on some line, which apparently means that he's somewhat dead. Who would write an essay about that? Weren't these essays supposed to have some truth?"

"So what Paulina said about Phantom wanting to be with her and him loving her is true?" Sam asked sarcastically. "The only thing she talked about was how much he loved her."

"You wrote about loser Fenton," Dash countered.

"I never said that he upright _adores_ me. I explained what I liked about him."

"Enough," Mr. Lancer said. "We all have rights to our opinions and I never said that the essay had to be true. However, I would like to know who wrote it so I can put a grade on it." He waited for a minute, and I didn't speak up. He sighed. "Daniel, why couldn't you say that you wrote it?" I felt my eyes go wide. "Yes, I know you wrote it. I saw your little reactions during the entire discussion and you didn't stumble on a single word when you read it."

"See? I told you that the writer was a freak," Dash laughed and got a few others going. I glared at him and knew my eyes flash green.

"Do you mind telling us what the meaning of your essay is?" Mr. Lancer asked. I looked at him and stayed quiet. "Daniel, can you answer me?"

"I just threw a bunch of crap together to pass," I announced. "Sort of why I wanted it back in the beginning."

"Do you actually expect me to believe that? I've seen your "crap" and this essay had a lot of thought put into it."

"I thought about the crap that I was going to put into it," I corrected.

"I have never received something this deep from you before."

"Someone else wrote it, that's why."

Mr. Lancer studied me for a second. "That lie was horrible compared to what you usually come up with."

He had a point.

"There is no "Deep Meaning" behind what I wrote," I finished. "Did I pass or what?"

"You get an _A_, but I would've preferred if you would have told me why you really wrote what you did. I personally think that the secret you mentioned is real, and as someone who wants their students to take care in life, I suggest you reconsider who you haven't told." I bit my lip, and looked at the floor. "That's all I'm going to say about it…for now."

Mr. Lancer finished up with the rest of the essays, and I sat straighter in my chair. I knew that Mr. Lancer was discreetly trying to tell me to let him in on my life, but I didn't know if I wanted to.

The bell eventually rang, Sam and I left the classroom hand in hand, and that was when I decided.

There might come a time to tell people that I was Danny Phantom.

But now wasn't it.

Now was the time to hang out with my new girlfriend and to live life like a normal teenager, not to be hiding from paparazzi or being hauled in for experiments. I didn't want to have the fame and glory or the hatred and fear pushed into my human life. I wanted to find a way to balance both lives. I wanted to be a mystery. I wanted to be a secret.

I wanted to walk the line.

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**And that was the conclusion to "Walking the Line." Thank you all for the reviews, favorites, and alerts. ;)**


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